


When All Our Dead Come Knockin'

by crocodile



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-27 21:05:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17774213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crocodile/pseuds/crocodile
Summary: Something made of rage and ten thousand bones hunts Hanzo and Genji across oceans and continents, sending them into the desert of the American West to find the help of a curse-breaker. And Jesse McCree knows the ways of magic and demons and the dead, sure - but some spirits were never meant to be woken. Some gods should never be prayed to. The desert is never safe.





	When All Our Dead Come Knockin'

The sky above Sante Fe is heavy with bloated red clouds, blue bleeding into pink around the horizon. Hanzo tastes ozone and distant wood-fire as he inhales, rolling his tensed shoulders beneath his backpack. Beside him, Genji slams shut the driver side door of their rental SUV and swings a duffel bag over his own shoulder.

"I'm ready for some drinks after that flight. LAX is the worst," Genji announces, joining Hanzo on the sidewalk and shooting him a rueful grin. Just a few meters away awaits The Low Bar, glass doors propped open to invite in the cool May air. Dampened country rock and the smell of grease frying drift out.

"Don't overdo it." Hanzo cracks his neck and sighs. "We're here for business."

Genji snorts but follows Hanzo as he strides more purposefully than necessary toward the bar. "Business is a loose term, _aniki_."

The bar is comfortably warm when they step inside, lightly populated and quiet for an alcoholic establishment. Hanzo surveys the room with his face as relaxed as he can force it to be. The bar is L-shaped gleaming mahogany wood with a shimmering array of liquor on the wall. Booths with dark red vinyl seats line the western wall. The whole place would be nondescript if not for the ridiculous variety of huge taxidermy animals decorating the walls, including a one-antlered buck and an enormous grizzly bear posed to be roaring on its back legs just beside the entrance.

There are guns and decorative knives in the spaces between, Hanzo notes suddenly. Every piece is polished in the low light, and he imagines each one is operable.

Genji nudges him in the side and inclines his head toward the last booth in the back. A large man, face tilted down and hidden by an old cowboy hat, relaxes in the seat. Hanzo narrows his eyes at Genji but follows him across the bar.

The cowboy looks up just as they reach the table, arms still folded across his chest. Hanzo sees his eyes first - dark but flecked with gold. Wild-looking. Dangerous.

Then Genji is bowing and reaching out his hand all at once, unfazed. "Mr. McCree?"

A crooked grin breaks across the cowboy's face, his brown skin crinkling around eyes that are no longer predatory. He stands up halfway, reaching out to shake Genji's hand with his right while lifting up his hat with his left. His battered red flannel shirt is rolled at the elbows, letting the metal of his prosthetic left arm flash beneath the hanging light. "Jesse's fine, Mr. Shimada." He glances at Genji's neon green hair, amused. "I'm guessin' you're Genji. Zenyatta told me you would be “colourful.” Have a seat."

Genji slides into the booth, the vinyl buckling noisily. Hanzo bows a little stiffly and drops his backpack beneath the table before he sits. "Thank you for seeing us on such short notice, Mr. McCree."

"No problem, Mr. Shimada. 'S my job." Jesse leans back into the booth, stretching his arm across the back. The flannel pulls across his broad chest and shoulders as he tilts his chin back. In another life, Hanzo would have readily acknowledged that the cowboy's dark and sun-weathered skin, his full lips and rugged features, all on top of his brick shithouse stature check every one of Hanzo's boxes. In this life, he has no such luxury. "Y'all hungry? Thirsty?"

"Yes," Genji says, cutting off Hanzo's protests before he can open his mouth. "We could both do with some water and alcohol."

Hanzo sinks down in resignation as Jesse gives that lopsided smirk again and raises his arm to flag down a waitress. A young woman with shocking red hair hurries over, tray under her arm. "Hey Jess," she says with a sweet smile.

"Hey Emily. How's Lena?"

Emily grabs the empty tumbler sitting in front of Jesse. "Doing better." Her thick British accent is somehow not out of place in the bar. "We'll be heading back to Denver soon. What can I get you boys?"

"Waters all around, another coupl'a ounces for me, and a real big basket of fries." Jesse nods at Genji.

"I'm not familiar with what you have on tap. Anything local?"

Emily tilts her head and hums thoughtfully. "I'll surprise you. It'll be good." She looks at Hanzo. "Anything for you?"

"I'll have whatever label Mr. McCree ordered."

She laughs. " _Mr. McCree_. Alright. I'll be right back."

As she rushes away to a loud table toward the front of the bar, Jesse drops his elbows onto the table and watches both brothers with his chin in his hands. "So. How 'bout y'all start at the beginning, describe what's goin' on."

Genji purses his lips for a moment. "The beginning is very far away. How much did Zenyatta tell you?"

"Almost nothing. Zenyatta always cites monk-patient confidentiality, 'specially when the sitrep is real weird."

Hanzo reaches down to fish a notebook out of his backpack. "Well, Mr. McCree, we are being hunted - " he pauses as Emily brings their drinks to the table, the heavy glasses clinking on the laminated wood.

Jesse smiles patiently until Emily leaves once again. "Mr. Shimada, this is a...particular establishment. You don't need to worry 'bout being overheard here. 'Specially not by Emily."

Hanzo flips through his notebook, whole body tense. "This is a sensitive matter."

"And this is a hunter’s bar." When Hanzo glances up, there is a hint of that wicked gleam back in Jesse's eyes. "Nothing you say can or will leave these walls without you knowin'."

Hanzo turns in the booth, craning his neck to inspect the bar more thoroughly. On the wood beams across the walls and ceilings, he notes what he previously dismissed as graffiti and scratches to look like - well, not quite like writing, but intentional. "This place is warded?"

"Yessir. Some of them done by yours truly." Jesse takes a swig of his whiskey. "Now, if you will, tell me 'bout yourselves."

Hanzo stares at him for a long moment. He feels uneasy, as usual, but the voices that live in the depths of his brain are sleeping, and Genji is loose-limbed beside him, sipping a glass of dark ale. He sighs. "We are being hunted by a - a creature that is not natural."

Jesse hums a rough acknowledgment and pulls a thin cigarillo from the pocket of his shirt. "Zenyatta mentioned a potential family curse. Y'all mind?"

Hanzo shakes his head and Genji pulls out a lighter from his jeans pocket, which Jesse trades him for another cigarillo. The smoke is sweet, almost like vanilla when they both light up. "Yes, it seems like it may have been - hmm - created because of our family. Are you good with curses, Mr. McCree?"

Jesse blows a ring of smoke upwards. "I excel at curses, darlin'. Setting 'em and breakin' 'em."

 _Darlin'_. The way that word curls out of Jesse's mouth twists something in Hanzo's gut that he resolutely ignores. "That's ideal. We are being followed by a creature that is made up of..."

Genji picks up where he trails off, a picture of serenity with the cigarillo perched between the fingers of his carbon-black right hand. "The creature is a very big skeleton made up of smaller skeletons of people killed by our family."

Jesse considers them silently, his mouth hidden where it is pressed into his palm. He takes a moment to stare down into his glass as he swirls it. When he looks back at them, his eyes glitter. "So you've got a composite monster made up of restless dead. Y'all are sure they're spirits killed by your kin?"

Emily appears so suddenly that Hanzo flinches. "Fresh out of the fryer," she announces, setting down a huge basket of fries, some plates, and a wire holder full of sauces. "Enjoy!"

Grabbing bottles of sauces, Jesse begins pouring dollops of them onto one of the plates. "Mild barbecue sauce, medium hot sauce, kinda spicy hot sauce, real spicy hot sauce, ketchup," he says, pointing to each one. "Be careful about the real spicy one. In this area of the world we live in heat that kills. The locals are proud of spice."

Immediately, Genji grabs a french fry, dunks it in the "real spicy" sauce, and shoves it unceremoniously into his mouth. He chews thoughtfully for three whole seconds, swallows, and then coughs raggedly. Hanzo smacks him a few times between the shoulder blades, and Genji looks up with a huge grin and tears in his eyes. "That is, as you say, real spicy."

Hanzo rolls his eyes and takes some fries himself. "The creature has come very close to us a few times. It - it makes these howling noises, and fills your head with voices. They are definitely spirits killed by the Shimada clan."

"Your family yakuza?" Jesse asks through a mouthful of fries.

Genji twitches two of his fingers, innocuous to anyone not looking for it. Their silent language.  _Go ahead_. "Yes. We were. Genji and I don't - we don't communicate with the rest of the clan anymore."

 _With what's left of the clan_. The words unspoken hang in the air.

"Alright." Jesse slaps the table with his large metal hand. "Alright. Bunch'a restless dead making a hybrid monster. That's pretty bad." He smiles at their rapt faces. "Pretty bad. Not the worst I've dealt with, though. Is there anythin' else that stands out?"

"The wolf." Genji looks regretful the instant the words leave his mouth, but Hanzo gives his knee a reassuring nudge with his own. "It wears the hide of a wolf over its head and back."

"Interestin'." Jesse finishes off his whiskey and Hanzo finally takes a sip of his own. Strong, but smooth enough that he doesn't grimace. "Does your clan have a connection to wolves?"

Hanzo shrugs. "Not that we know of. Our ancestral animal is a dragon."

That statement draws a toothy grin from Jesse. "A dragon? Now that's a beast I'd like to see 'fore I leave this earth." Hanzo can't help the amused smile that breaks over his face, and Genji visibly struggles not to giggle. If Jesse notices, he ignores them both. "So, what does it come down to, Misters Shimada? You want the skeletons in your closets dead and gone?"

"If you know of a peaceful way to get rid of the creature, we would prefer that."

"Mhmm." Jesse leans back, rubbing his hand through his hair and knocking his hat askew. "How fast is it?"

"Pardon?"

"How many days does it take to find you?" He looks relaxed, almost lazy, in a manner that tells Hanzo he is absolutely focused. "I need to see it to know how to end it."

Genji bites his lip. "Well, we just flew 18,000 kilometers. That should give us at least a week before it gets here. It has a hard time crossing oceans."

"Then we got a week to prepare."

* * *

 

They do not get a week.

Hanzo wakes in the hotel room with Genji kneeling over him, shaking his shoulders. His eyes are bright in the dim light of dawn sneaking through the heavy blinds. "- _ki_.  _Aniki_ , get up."

Groaning, Hanzo pushes himself into a seated position, Genji is still in his boxers, and the fingers of his right hand clink against his matching carbon legs as he fidgets. "What's wrong, Genji? What time is it?"

"5:34 AM. The skeleton is closing in on California."

"Fuck." Hanzo scrubs at his face and beard. "Are you sure?"

"Yes,  _aniki_. Zenyatta and I both saw it while meditating. It will likely reach the shore today."

Hanzo rolls out of bed, his shoulder popping. "Fine. That's fine. Call the cowboy while I shower."

By 6:15 AM Hanzo is checking them out of the hotel while Genji gets their car from the parking garage. Jesse gives them directions so esoteric that Genji has to write them down instead of using a GPS, cheerfully explaining that he had done some research on the skeleton and that they both needed to stay with him for the immediate future.

For the first fifteen minutes of the drive they squabble over music, constantly disconnecting and reconnecting each other's phones until Hanzo politely reminds Genji to keep his eyes on the road when he swerves wildly to miss a pothole. They settle into classic rock instead of classic dubstep as the road and the world outside become increasingly rough and jagged. Hanzo leans his forehead against the window, blinking sleep from his eyes as he watches the sun burst over the desert in brilliant gold and orange.

By forty minutes in, the highway is heavily pockmarked from neglect, and the fences along the ditches curl in on themselves in painful contortions. Genji slows the car when they spot an ancient-looking gnarled tree covered in ribbons and strips of fabric, a handful of glass jar hanging from the branches. A dilapidated barbwire fence passes behind the tree and out as far as they can see, over the red dirt and shuddering grasses. "I'm guessing these are the curses the cowboy said he is good at." He laughs, a little strained, and turns onto the dirt road beside the tree.

The moment they pass within the fence, Hanzo feels a jolt of something like static electricity pass through his entire body, turning his stomach and raising the hairs on the back of his neck. "Did you - "

"Yeah, I felt it." Genji's knuckles tense on the steering wheel. "Either that was a barrier to protect us, or we just tripped a magical alarm and will combust in a few seconds."

Hanzo reaches forward and pauses the music. Quickly approaching is a pueblo-styled house painted cream with dark wood beams as accents. A few more knobby trees stand watch around the house, along with a truly enormous cactus. Even from a distance, they all seem to be heavily decorated in charms. A large metal garage sits off to the side, its door shut. Off to the left of the house are two wood and stucco barns with paddocks attached, one of which currently holds four horses.

"He's actually a cowboy," Hanzo comments, wondrously. "I thought it was an aesthetic choice."

"He's probably really good with rope. Maybe he'll give you a lesson - " With the indifferent air of someone reacting on muscle memory, Genji lifts his arm to block Hanzo before his hand can make contact.

They park in front of the house and are just getting out when the front door swings open. Two dogs come barreling out the front door, kicking up dust as they go. One of them, a brown and gray spotted hound, bays loudly and jumps between Genji and Hanzo's legs restlessly. The larger dog sniffs at Hanzo's shoes, ignoring her brother smacking into him with his head and tail.

"Hello there," Genji coos, managing to grab the hound's head and focus his attention. "Look at your pretty eyes! They're different colours!"

Grinning, Hanzo kneels down with his hand out, balancing on his heels against the weight of the two bags on his back. The second dog is dark brown and black, reminiscent of the halfway point between a Rottweiler and a German Shepherd. The dog sniffs his hand delicately before licking it. She lets Hanzo pat her for a few seconds and then retreats to the porch of the house to sit by Jesse's feet.

"G'mornin', boys." Jesse's voice is low and rough like he just woke up. "Possum, leave him alone."

The spotted hound gives a loud huff and immediately lays down, right on top of Genji's feet.

"That's not what I meant and you know it," Jesse calls without heat. He stretches his arms high, joints loudly cracking and giving Hanzo a perfect view of his V-shaped pelvic muscles and hairy stomach when his black T-shirt rides up. He can practically feel the intensity of Genji's eyes on the cowboy and silently wills his brother not to say anything uncomfortable. "Why don't y'all bring your stuff inside? I made breakfast."

"Hell yeah!" Genji carefully extracts his feet from beneath the hound, who stands, shakes himself of dirt, and trots right at Genji's heel. Hanzo hefts his bags and follows.

"Thank you," Hanzo murmurs as Jesse holds the door open for them. Inside, the house is pleasantly cool, an open kitchen on the left and small den opposite. Genji tugs off his sneakers, carbon feet showing beneath the rolled hem of his jeans, and makes a beeline for the island in the kitchen. Hanzo begins to slide his own boots off when he feels Jesse's hand on his shoulder.

"Can I take one of your bags?" His fingers are warm and light, questioning. 

Hanzo straightens up and lets Jesse slide off the backpack, keeping an eye on him as he walks across the house to drop off the bag in a small bedroom. 

" _Aniki_ ," Genji stage whispers, hovering over the island. "How  _good_  does this smell?"

Joining him, Hanzo surveys the assortment of plates on the island - a cast-iron skillet full of fried eggs in tomato sauce, a plate stacked with toast, a large bowl full of berries and sliced melon, a cooling rack covered in bacon and sausage links, and several mismatched jars of honey and jams. He leans on the granite island top and inhales deeply.

"Take a seat, please." Jesse gestures to the barstools around the island as he walks into the kitchen opens a cabinet. “How do you take your coffee?”

“With a couple spoonfuls of brown sugar.” Genji sits down heavily on a stool and grabs one of the empty plates sitting on the island.

“I’ll get some honey.”

Jesse hums as he grabs down three mugs and pours them all coffee from the fresh pot on the counter. The smell of a sweet, earthy roasts drifts up with the steam. He opens another cabinet, shuffles around an outstanding assortment of spices for a few moments, before triumphantly pulling out a sealed glass container of brown sugar.

Hanzo loads up his plate, grabbing the mug Jesse holds out to him with a _thank you_. He opens the jar of honey and uses a spoon to snap off a little piece of the honeycomb inside, dropping it onto the plate, before dipping another spoonful into his mug.

“This ish _good_ ,” Genji declares through a mouthful of toast and eggs.

“Chew with your mouth _shut_ , you demon,” Hanzo says, dropping his forehead into his palm.

 Jesse gives a contemplative grunt around the top of his coffee. "Demons usually have good manners. Lotsa rules. He's more like a fey." He picks up two sausage links and tosses them onto the kitchen floor where the dogs lay in wait. 

Genji sticks his tongue out through a mouth of mush and Hanzo turns his stool and finishes his meal with his back to him. It  _is_ good, though - the eggs are savory and a lot spicy, and the jams, all labeled with local farms, are a perfect mix of sweet and tart. Even the toast is crisped just right.

Jesse collects their plates, waving away both brothers when they get up to help. "Now that y'all have some caffeine and protein in you, we should take a look at what I dug up." They follow him to the living room, where stacks of books cover the coffee table around an old laptop. Hanzo sits on the floor, carefully reading over the titles of books. 

 _A Primer on Appeasing Angry Ancestors. Amari's Glossary of Restless Dead Appeasement Rites. Ullambana Sutra for English Students of Chan._ A few titles are in simplified Chinese, and he gets the gist of them - angry ghosts. "You have so much literature."

"Don't be so surprised." Hanzo looks up guiltily, only to see Jesse smiling lazily at him. "I really am an expert, underneath all the cowboy."

"I didn't mean to offend. I just...didn't realize how much formal writing there is on the supernatural."

Jesse opens up the laptop. "We've been livin' with the supernatural since before recorded history. Our texts go back forever, at least in human terms. There's a lotta variety." He clicks around for a moment, seeming deep in thought. "Ha - thought I lost the page. So what I'm thinkin' - now, this is based solely on your descriptions, and I might change my mind when I see your monster - but I'm thinking you've got a  _gashadokuro_ on your hands."

Hanzo nods, absently flipping through the  _Ullambana Sutra_ translation. "That sounds reasonable enough. Have you ever seen one before?"

"Nope. Monsters of that size aren't particularly common in this dimension. I haven't even heard of someone fightin' a _gashadokuro_ in our lifetime. In fact - " They all jump when Jesse's phone buzzes loudly against the table, skittering to bump into a book.“Shit.” Jesse grabs his phone and swipes open the screen. His brow furrows deeply as he reads.

“Bad news?” Hanzo says, looking over his laptop screen and across the table.

“More like bad timing.” Jesse fidgets, leg bouncing as he considers his phone. “Got a message from a neighbor about a situation that won’t clean itself up.”

“You have _neighbors_? Where?”

Jesse laughs at Genji’s look of disbelief, settling back into the couch cushions. “Our neighborhoods are real big out here. That was Meadowlark Ranch, about five miles from here. They’ve been having issues with livestock being brutalized. I was hoping it would turn out to be a mountain lion – they’re mean as hell, they’ll kill animals for sport, and they make these godawful noises in the middle of the night. A lot of people make ghosts outta mountain lions.” He holds out his phone for them to look. “But they caught this on the ranch’s security tapes last night.”

“Gross!” Genji immediately recoils, waving his arms to shoo the phone away. Hanzo leans in, his stomach twisting when he sees the picture. Something vaguely human looks up at the screen, scraggly black hair falling over its grey skin. Its fingers are too long where it grabs the fence and its stomach is so distended it looks like it would explode if touched, and its mouth -

Its mouth is the worst part, like a bullet hole in its face, a wound that is stitched too small. Its eyes reflect like a cat’s caught in headlights at night.

“What the _fuck_ is that,” Hanzo breathes. Even through a static image, the creature radiates pure despair. He feels a little sick as he stares at it.

“Probably an _egui_.” McCree draws his phone back, breaking Hanzo’s spell. “A hungry ghost. They’re not native spirits, but they made it here at least two hundred years ago by following Buddhist immigrants.” He runs a hand through his hair, causing a few curls to billow out around his head. “They usually stick to crowded places – I’d bet most of them hang out in SoCal where there’s plenty of people to try to feed off. Not sure how this’n got all the way out here.”

“So they – “ Genji grimaces – “feed on flesh?”

Jesse sighs and looks beyond them out the window. The sunlight catches the side of his face, turning his dark skin to molten gold. There’s something in his expression Hanzo can’t quite name – empathy, maybe, or guilt. “They’re spirits of hunger, but their mouths are too small to eat anythin’. So they just keep killin’, until someone destroys them or they reincarnate. They’re in a hell.”

“ _A_ hell? How many are there?”

Hanzo receives a grin full of teeth for that question. “Well, within the industry we reckon there’s infinite hells, or a number so large it approaches infinity. Hells are usually made in the spaces where dimensions overlap and reality gets a little – “ he wiggles his hand in snakelike motion – “frayed ‘round the edges.”

Hanzo holds his hands up in front of him. “Right now my brain is still really, really struggling to comprehend the _gashadokuro_ and the _egui_. Please don’t bend my mind too much.”

“Flexibility is good for the mind and the body, Mr. Shimada.” Hanzo silently praises the gods when Jesse stands and turns to toward the back of the house, missing the way his face flushes. Genji does not miss it, and gives his brother a wicked smile. “I’ve gotta collect some tools ‘fore I head out. _Egui_ are like restless dead on steroids.”

“Hey Jesse – can Hanzo come on the job with you?” Hanzo flips Genji off with both hands, mouthing _I will murder you_. Genji presses on, undaunted. “I need to read through some of this research, but one of us needs to see how you work. Get a feel for all of this.”

“Sure thing,” Jesse calls, voice muffled. “So long as he can ride a horse.”

**Author's Note:**

> hey there i'm an asshole who hasn't written a fanfic in like 6 years but i want to learn to write again so! i'm trying my hand at a multi-chapter fic, which has never been my thing. i'm playing fast and loose with the setting (no Overwatch paramilitary organization, relatively same year as canon). this is my second attempt at writing OW characters so i'll figure out the characterizations as i go. 
> 
> there will be more characters and more to Genji that i'm still fleshing out, so i'll tag those things when they appear in a later chapter. i've never been much of a planner for stories and it's taking all 6 of my remaining brain cells to put any forethought into this so please bear with me.
> 
> thanks for reading! i love you! :D


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